"Just drink it already!" Peter groaned for the fourth time, holding out the bottle.

"I think I'll stick to coughing." Neal said, and as if on cue, he went into a full blown hack fest.

"I don't get why you won't drink it. It doesn't taste that bad." Peter said again, maybe this was the fifth time.

"It's not the taste." Neal said again.

"Then what?" Peter asked now this was the fifth time.

Neal sighed. "NyQuil knocks me straight out and I can't right now so just leave it alone."

"You are ridiculous." Peter laughed, shaking his head.

They worked on in semi-silence, with Neal coughing and sneezing every five minutes, until Peter yawned and stood.

"I'm getting some coffee. You want some?" Peter asked and Neal nodded.

Peter stealthily brought the NyQuil along with him and filled Neal's coffee with a good chunk of it, and then he put in extra sugar and milk to counter the taste. He brought back both cups and Neal accepted his gratefully. He drank it faster than stealing a painting, thinking it would perk him up when Peter knew it would be just the opposite. Peter chuckled and Neal put down his coffee immediately, a wary expression on his features.

"What?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing. It's just I've never seen you drink our coffee like that before." Peter explained.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Neal coughed and Peter rolled his eyes.

At about the twenty minute mark, Neal eyelids drooped and his grip slackened.

"What did you do?" Neal asked, but he was slurring so badly it was more 'whatduido?'

"Your coffee was one part coffee and three part NyQuil." A playful grin spreading across his face. Even half-asleep Peter noticed Neal could still pull off a glare, or at least try to, the drugs weren't helping.

Peter winced and asked if Neal wanted to go sleep on the couch in his office. Neal nodded but could barely stand so Peter wrapped an arm under Neal's shoulders. He half-carried half-dragged Neal to his office and gently, or at least tried to, set him down on the couch. Neal curled up on it and fell asleep by the time Peter had reached under his desk and grabbed the secret pillow and blanket that he wasn't supposed to have and turn back. Peter slipped the pillow under Neal's head, ruffled his hair, and covered the sleeping ex-con with the blanket. Peter shut off his lights and gently closed the door.

When Neal made no move to even twitch when it was time to leave, Peter debated taking him home or not. If didn't he would have to face El. Thirty minutes later, petr was dragging Neal through his front door.

With a malicious smile, El said, "Good choice."